


My Midas Dust

by Rossinante



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Tags to be added, Teacher AU, carwood is a librarian, ron is love sick, this is me indulging in my need for fluff, warning: i suck at updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rossinante/pseuds/Rossinante
Summary: Ron is the new teacher everyone's a little afraid ofexcept the cute librarian, Carwoodso of course the romance blooms from there





	1. The Post-it Note

**Author's Note:**

> warning: fluff, inaccurate understanding of the america education system, amateur trying her best to be a writer

Ron Speirs transfers to Currahee High School in early Autumn, just in time for the second term to start. He teaches English to the year 9's and 10's, with Winters- the head of the English department- who teaches the 11's and 12's. He's quite thankful for being given the younger years, since they are still of an age where the teacher has a high power. Combined with his reputation as being a force to be reckoned with; they're perfectly behaved. 

The rumours are amusing, he'd laugh out loud if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. Apparently, he once hung up a student by his tie in the gym because he handed in his homework late- that's a particular favourite of his. The teachers are nearly all unnerved by his hard stare and quite nature, with the exception of Harry Welsh- head of the Mathematics department-, Lewis Nixon, and Winters. 

Welsh seems unfazed by it all, and treats Ron much the same as he does the other teachers. At a bake-sale, he slapped Ron's hand away when he reached for the last toffee muffin, apparently having put dibs on it earlier. Mr. Peacock looked horrified, liked Welsh had just fulfilled a death wish, but the man just continued to pick up the muffins and place them in a plastic box to take home to his fiancee. Winters had watched it, an expression of pride on his face. 

Winters sunny disposition seems to prevent him from fearing anything, even Ron unblinking stares- the only times he has seen Winters worried is during meetings with Sobel, or when Nixon is drinking during school hours. Nixon himself- head of History- is in a perpetual state of moroseness as he divorce progresses (or remains stagnant from what Ron has heard) so he views most things as irritating including Ron, with the exception of Winters company. 

While the teachers and students take a while to warm up to him, the librarian is... something else. 

He meets Carwood Lipton at the front desk on his second day, while waiting for his teacher ID. Lipton walks in, a bicycle helmet under his arm and his shoulders soaked by the rain. Lipton must know who he is but he doesn't look suspicious or uncomfortable, he just smiles with flushed cheeks. The man silently signs into the teacher registration and disappears through the double doors leading to the Design and Technology.

It takes a week for him to find out who he is. Over lunch, Harry argues loudly with Lipton about the benefits of organising by alphabet rather than genre. When Harry finally looses the argument- both Nixon and Peacock siding against him- Harry disappears in a huff that leaves the others laughing. Lipton doesn't laugh, he just smiles, and catches Ron's gaze. It's a brief exchange; Lipton rolls his eyes, Ron smiles and goes back to his newspaper. The smile stays on his face for the rest of the day, which unnerves most of his class.

\- 

Ron finds a reason to visit the library the next week. according to Christiansen, it has the best IT suite because "the computers where made after 2000". So, Ron books it for the class to type up their essays on Of Mice and Men. 

It's first period and the class is subdued- their muttering consisting of complaints about how early it is. Heffron slumps down on the keyboard as Ron writes instructions on the portable white board with a squeaky green pen. He takes the register and starts marking last weeks papers, until Webster asks for a copy of the book for referencing. 

Thankful for an excuse to take a break from marking more essays, Ron looks around the library. It's smaller than his apartment, with high shelves and a low ceiling. The space is oddly modern for a Victorian Private school- the bookcases are metal, and the sofas are from Ikea or somewhere minimalist and cheap.

The IT section is at the back of the room, so Ron inspects the shelves he passes for Of Mice and Men. Some of the books are battered and falling apart, while others are laminated protectively- as if whoever brought the older book learned from their mistake. 

He can hear the students voice begin to rise and he calls over the shelves. "Quite in the library." And a hush immediately sweeps across the room. 

He reaches the end of the aisle and finds a copy of Treasure Island, with a spin so thin and frayed he's worried it will dissolve under his touch. He opens it gently and scans the first Chapter, running his fingers over the yellowy paper.

"Are you a fan?" 

Ron almost jumps, having not realised he's hovering in view of the desk. Lipton sits there, smiling at him tentatively. 

"I've read Dr. Jekyll but not this... Carwood right?" Ron steps out from behind the bookshelf, feeling caught out. 

"Everyone calls me Lip. You're the new English teacher?" He sits forward and offers a hand.

"Speirs. Ron Speirs." Ron places it book aside and shakes it briefly, leaning against the counter. Carwood takes the top copy from the pile at his elbow, and scribble in the library card. The stack consists of twenty copies of Catcher In The Rye, probably for Winters class who are a few lessons ahead. After the state Dike left the class in, Ron is impressed they're even this far behind. 

"You know, I've never heard a class so quite before." Carwood murmurs as he reaches for the second book. Ron looks back at him and Carwood quickly drops his gaze. 

"Well, a little fear never hurt anyone." Ron replies. Carwood seems to find that comment amusing. 

"Ah, yes so I've heard." Ron quirks an eyebrow at the words and Carwood explains. "The kids tell me everything. I subbed for your class while they were looking for someone to replace Dike, so they always fill me in on the gossip." 

"I heard. They liked you a lot. Always there whenever Dike flaked, picking up the slack and motivating them. You'd make a great teacher." Ron says, watching the colour in Carwood's cheeks rise. "The rumours are more convenient than true anyway." 

"Oh? Well you certainly haven't done anything to dissuade them." 

"If they behave in class because they dislike me, just makes my job a bite easier." 

Carwood laughs quietly again and Ron finds he enjoys the way the librarians eyes crease a little as he smiles. Everything about the man seems shy and a little quiet like Ron- but in a more calming way (Ron's quiet tends to unnerve people). 

"That's a fair theory, and the quieter the class the better in my opinion." Carwood jokes, pointing to the 'no food, no drink, no talking' sign above him head. 

Ron nods, then glances at his watch. "I'm actually looking for some copies of Of Mice and Men?" 

"Oh sure, let me show you where they are." Carwood offers, getting up. He leads Ron down the furthest aisle. "We keep the book the kids are studying all in one place, here." The librarian kneels and takes several copies from the book shelf. He hands them up to Ron who balances the pile against his chest. 

"Thank you." 

"Uh-huh." Carwood smiles then realises he's still kneeling in front of Ron and quickly stands up, brushing off his knees. 

"I should-" Ron mutters, pointing to his class. Carwood steps to the side so Ron can pass. 

"Hey Ron." Carwood blurts as Ron reaches the end of the ailse. He lowers his voice, "the kids don't actually dislike you. They're glad to have a teacher who knows what they're doing." 

Ron pauses, looking over Carwoods soft features for a hint of something other than kindness. He finds nothing and it seems impossible, but he smiles and nods. 

The next day, he comes in early to finish marking the first drafts of essays. It's a saddening task at times, especially when it comes to spelling but it has to be done. He doesn't notice it at first, as he dumps his briefcase on the desk and fixes his cup of coffee with several packets of sugar. 

But when he sits and unpacks, his elbow connects with the mysterious book. Ron pauses, trying to figure out if a student forgot it. He picks it up and examines the cover and back, then flips open the first page. Stuck over the title is a neon yellow post-it note. 

'A must read for an English teacher. Tell me what you think -C' 

Ron peels the note away and tucks it into his pocket. The clock above the door reads seven thirty- half an hour until first period. With a feeling of warmth blooming in his chest, he pushes aside the paper and opens Treasure Island to Chapter One.


	2. Good Shirt

Autumnal weather continues to elude them. The school is surrounded by puddles and streams of dirty water that follow the roads. Where beautiful reds and golds should crown the trees, they are left bare or brown. Ron misses the crisp autumn weather back home, and prays for the winter snow to arrive in time for Christmas. 

As with all old buildings the school is colder than it is outside, and half the students keep their coats on in the classroom. Wind whistles through the window frames, and a mysterious draft causes random doors in the English corridor to slam closed. 

Ron quickly comes up with two very logical reasons to visit the library. The first is the tiny back office has two plug in radiators that transform the room into a sauna. Ron discovers this when he comes to collect copies of Catcher in the Rye for his class, now they've finished Of Mice and Men. Carwood isn't sitting at his desk as usual, so Ron steps around the counter and knocks on the small door. He's met with a rush of heat when it's answered. 

"What the hell?" 

"You're letting the heat out." Carwood complains, dragging Ron inside and closing the door. It's stiflingly hot and Ron is already tugging at his collar. "Pretty good, huh? Brought some radiators from home." 

"Carwood, I think you'll be the first person to get heat stroke in winter at this rate." Ron says and Carwood laughs. 

He ends up spending an hour sitting in the office, hands angled over the glowing radiators while they chat, and from there on wards it's ritual. Sometimes Carwood has to finish some work so Ron sits with him in the comfortable quiet. Ron has never been a conversational type of person yet with Carwood he is happy to discuss anything in the world, or absolutely nothing. He's full of passion, Ron notes, for books and for the kids- they never seem to stray for those topics and Ron wonders if it's deliberate. 

The second reason is; Carwood makes a very good cup of coffee, far better than the syrup in the teacher's room. Carwood blushes with pride when Ron tells him so, and gleefully pours more coffee for him. 

Ron is very aware these reasons are more like excuses to see Carwood whom he has become quite attached to. The librarian doesn't seem to mind, in fact he seems to perk up when Ron visits. Yet it seems like a never ending cycle of the same routine, and Carwood never seems inclined to change it. That is, until two weeks before Christmas break.  
They've been in this pattern for a couple of weeks now, sitting together at lunch and discussing books or gossip over drinks. The librarian sits in his chair, turned away from the desk, and Ron perches on the opposite cabinet. 

"No you're definitely wrong." Carwood chuckles as he pours more coffee into a mug covered in daisies that has been christened Ron's mug.

"I'm definitely right." Ron says, taking the mug. Carwood's taken to wearing a different jumper almost every day- todays being a camouflage green number. He looks a little pale, and like he hasn't had much sleep. 

"They're not... sleeping with each other, that's impossible." Carwood insists. 

"I assure you it's very possible." Ron mutters. He slurps the coffee to hide his smile at Carwood's ever growing blush. 

"That's not what I... It's against the rules, teachers aren't suppose to date. Besides Lew is married to a woman!" 

"Was." Ron clarifies triumphantly. "He's getting divorced. He could very easily be bisexual, and has Dick ever dated anyone you know of? I would say the man is asexual if he and Nixon weren't constantly eye fu-" 

"Mr. Lipton?" Suddenly Eugene Roe opens the door without knocking. Carwood gasps and nearly tips his drink in his lap in surprise. 

"-Fudging." Ron concludes lamely, "what is it Eugene?" 

"I wanted to return my book before next lesson." Eugene explains, eyeing Ron boldly as he holds out The Fire Within to the librarian. Carwood smiles sweetly and takes it, promising to order the next book in the series as soon as possible. Eugene leaves looking a little less wary. 

As Carwood scribbles something on a post-it note, Ron wonders if that's why he is drawn to the man. Like Winters and Nixon, they appear to be opposite but connect on a level other people cannot fathom. Carwood is a sweet, comforting presence opposing Ron's aloof exterior. Only he seems to perceive Ron as something more than a iron-fisted educator. 

"How is the book coming along by the way?" Carwood asks as he presses the note onto the corner of his monitor. 

"Very good, thank you. C." Ron says emphatically. He reads it at every spare moment, between classes or before bed. The book is tucked in his jacket right now, the post-it note Carwood wrote acting as a bookmark for no sentimental reason at all. 

The librarian smiles bashfully, stirring his coffee. "You're the only person who calls me Carwood, so I couldn't write Lip." 

Ron feels an irrational spark of possessiveness. "You're the only person who calls me Ron." 

They sits quietly for the next few minutes, both surreptitiously hiding smiles. The spell is broken when Harry comes in, head buried in layers of an ugly woollen scarf. 

"I knew it! You do this every year." Harry cackles, virtually pressing himself to one of the radiators. "Maths is freezing, there's a loose panel in a least three of the window." 

"Why don't you fix them?" Ron says, mildly irritated by the interruption. Carwood gives him a look as if to say 'be nice'. 

"I didn't go to university to become a handyman, Speirs." 

"What do you want Harry? Other than exploiting my radiators." Carwood asks good naturedly. Harry stands up, looking longing at the device. 

"Sobels complaint against Winters went to a council vote, and they basically said Winters is too good for it to be true. So, we're celebrating. Speirs you should come, you're not truly one of the staff until you've seen Lew wasted on Magaritas." 

"Thanks but I'll pass." Ron replies. He notices out of the corner of his eye Carwood looking disappointed. 

"Okay but you're missing out." Harry says in a sing-song voice. He smiles his gap-toothed smile and opens the door to leave. "I'll see you there, Lip." 

Carwood nods and waits for Harry to close the door before looking at Ron again. "You should come, it's fun to watch Harry try and get Winters to drink." 

"Winters doesn't drink?" Ron asks curiously. 

"Mmm, tee-total." Carwood answers gravely and Ron isn't surprised. The sound of the bell reverberates shrilly from the corridor as Ron finishes his coffee. 

"I'd better get to class." 

"Ron." He pauses with his hand on the door. "I'd like it if you came." 

"I'll think about it." Ron concedes, unnerved by how easily he gives into the man. It's worth it to see Carwood smile happily. 

\- 

They go to a bar in town, chosen by Nixon the resident places-to-party connoisseur. Harry gets dropped off by Kitty which Buck and Nixon tease him mercilessly for. Ron hangs back in the group, letting everyone joke and chat like they would if he were not there. He listens politely and reacts the same, but his mind is on the absence of a certain librarian. 

It's Friday, so the place is packed but they manage to get a booth near the dance floor. Winters and Ron are tasked with getting the first round. Winters doesn't seem to know how to dress casually, still in a button-up shirt and trousers as if he's at school- with the scandalous exception of a tie. 

"What are you drinking?" Winters calls over the music, and Ron requests a pint of whatever's on tap. They're handed a tray of drinks, more than the number at the table and Ron suspects those are for Nixon. 

The flashing lights and dry ice make Ron's head spin as they work their way back to the booth. When they get back Carwood's there sitting beside Harry laughing at something, and Ron is incredibly relieved. He looks good in a black shirt that hugs his body, and worn jeans. Having only ever seen him in button-ups and sweaters, it feels odd to Ron. 

"Hey you're here!" Carwood calls as Ron slides into the booth beside him. Ron smiles at him and sips on the room temperature beverage. Suddenly the inane chatter becomes more bearable. 

The drinks come steadily and while Nixon, Harry and Buck take them gladly, Ron is already starting to see funny. He's never handled his alcohol well and tonight he's celebrating with some obviously hardened drinkers. By round four he's fairly sure he'll fall over if he tries to stand- not that he wants to with Carwood pressed against his side, chatting more enthusiastically than he's ever seen. 

Nixon soon starts jittering and says loudly he has to dance, before climbing over Harry and disappearing on to the dance floor. Winters rolls his eyes, takes a long sip of ice water, and goes after him. He's shortly followed by Harry who drags Buck with him. It takes Ron a minutes to realise they're alone. 

"Are you drunk?" Carwood calls, placing a hand on Ron's arm to get his attention. 

"I... I'm not a drinker." Ron slurs, finding his tongue to be rubber in his mouth. 

"You mean you're a lightweight?" Carwood laughs, throwing his head back and squeezing Ron's arm hard. "That is actually a surprise. I pictured you as so kind of savant of some kind." 

"You pictured me?" Ron asks, selective hearing a symptom of his drunken stupor. Carwood blushes but he laughs again. 

"Don't worry, no one'll hold it against you." He says, the adds quietly, "The infamous Ron Speirs can't handle his alcohol." Ron shoves him gently, almost tipping over his pint in the process. 

"Tell me about yourself." Ron says after finishing the last of his pint and deciding that's about enough for one night. Buck came and went an hour or so ago and Nixon completely disappears for thirty minutes then returns to the table crying about a dog. As soon as Winters hands him a glass of water he seems okay again and goes back to the dancefloor. Carwood and Ron haven't left the booth the whole time, perfectly content where they are. 

"What?" Carwood asks, pressing his shoulder to Ron's. Even with the other's gone they haven't moved apart. 

"Tell me about you." Ron slurs, "I want to know stuff." 

"Stuff? What kinda stuff?" Carwood chuckles. 

"How did you get that scar?" Ron decides. He runs his thumb over the thin white line that tarnishes the perfect picture that is Carwood's face, not realising how it must look to anyone around. Carwood must, however, because he looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes darting around the crowded room. 

"A car crash a few years ago, before I moved here." 

"Oh." Ron feels bad for asking, and frowns deeply. He realises the scar doesn't tarnish his face, it's part of it like a mark on a canvas and makes the picture whole. 

"Did you just call me a canvas?" Carwood says, looking less amused. He must have said his thoughts out loud so Ron quickly covers his mouth and shakes his head. Carwood must believe him because he doesn't say anything more on the subject. 

Thankfully, Winters comes back with Nixon propped up on his shoulder, and Harry trailing behind. Carwood looks relieved and quickly takes up conversation with Winters as he sits in the booth. Nixon rootles around in his jacket on the back of a chair, and pulls out a packet of cigarettes triumphantly. 

"Wanna smoke?" Nixon calls, shaking the packet. Ron nods and, with a little stumbling, follows them out of the bar and into the chilly street. As Ron lights a cigarette he thanks the alcohol for keeping his limbs numb, although he can feel the goosebumps pepper his skin. 

He leans heavily against the wall, barely listening to Harry gush at Nixon about his fiancee Kitty- even when he is complaining, he sounds completely in love. Ron wonders what that must be like and his thoughts wonder to Carwood. 

He looks good in t-shirts, Ron decides. His sweaters and shirts were hiding a stocky muscular body beneath. So, his librarian is not only a kind person but he's very attractive below the collar too. Not that he's seen what below the collar but he'd very much like too. 

"So she wants some kind of special silk that isn't produced locally, so we're gonna have to import it." Harry says, gesturing wildly. His voice is far more shrilly without the accompanying bass inside the club. He's a very enthusiastic drunk, and grins with every word he speaks. "Which means we'll have to push the wedding up another two weeks, but Kitty wants a spring wedding and that'll push it into the summer." 

"Harry you realise you've only talked about Kitty for the last three hours?" Nixon chuckles between drags. Alcohol makes Nixon almost cheerful, Ron notices. It's probably why he drinks intermittently throughout the day. 

"How're we doin' out here?" Winters steps through the door, carrying everyone's jackets with his own thrown over his shoulder. He inspects each of them as he hands out the jackets, like a mother does to a child. Carwood appears at his shoulder and in the starker white light of the street lamps, Ron can't help thinking he looks very nice with flushed cheeks. 

"Just great Dick." Nick says grinning at the man, then he points to Ron. "Thought I think Speirs is a little worse for wear." 

"No, no I'm fine." Ron insists, carefully pronouncing his words. Carwood is watching him with a kind of smile on his lips, and it sends a sense of warmth through his body. 

"Uh-huh." Winters tuts with amusement. "We should get going, Harry you need a lift?" 

Harry waves his hand. "No, Kitty's picking me up any minute." 

"Okay. Ron?" 

"I walked." 

"I'll drive you home, Ron, you in no state to walk." Carwood sats firmly. Winters looks satisfied with that and pushes Nixon towards the car park. 

"See you all on Monday." 

Everyone calls goodbye, and Ron waves until they are swallowed by the dark. Harry takes a long drag of his cigarette then throws it to the ground, beneath his heel. 

"I'm gonna wait on the sidewalk, see you two crazy kids later." 

"Bye Harry." Carwood says. He watches his go then turns to Ron, leaning against the wall by his side so their shoulders are touching. Ron can't help watching matching goosebumps strings up on the curve of his bicep. It takes a moment for his to realise Carwood is laughing. 

"What?" Ron whines. 

"Nothin', it's just you're a light weight." Carwood chuckles, "is that why you didn't wanna come out? Because you're a cute drunk and it'd ruin your rep?" 

"That's why I didn't want to come out." Ron repeats, nodding his head lazily. Carwood laughs again and reaches for the cigarette in Ron's hand. 

"You smoke?" Ron asks, scandalised, but he lets Carwood take it. 

"For a while now." He watches, utterly transfixed as he presses the filter to his mouth and takes a drag. Ron swallows hard and looks away. "C'mon lets get you home, you're too drunk to walk anywhere." 

"You're probably right, you're very smart." Ron mutters, allowing himself to be steered away from the bar and up the street. Carwood guides him with a hand on the small of his back until they reach the car, and he lets go to open the door. The inside smells like wet dog and oil and Ron wonders if the librarian is a dog lover as well. 

Carwood driving is even more watchable than Carwood librarian-ing- in his drunken stupor he tries to figure out what it is that makes him so. They'd chatted and sat together for four hours tonight, and whether in conversation or comfortable silence- Ron wanted to be there. Even spending time with his family gets tedious after a while, but Carwood is his exception. 

"I think it's the quiet." Ron murmurs out loud. Carwood doesn't feel the need to fill every moment of silence with boring words. 

"What?" 

"You're quiet. That's a good thing. Everyone is so loud." 

"Well, you're drunk." Carwood replies, turning the wheel clockwise and making Ron sway. "You know how drunk?" 

"No?" 

"You haven’t told me where you live, that's how drunk." 

Oh, Ron had forgotten. He peers out of the window, where the high street moves buy at a snails pace while Carwood await directions. Ron's skin itches. 

"Curahee High School." 

Carwood laughs. "I think I'd have noticed if you lived at school, Ron." 

"C'mon, have you ever been to school after dark?" 

"No but... it's against the rules." Carwood says but Ron can see him giving in already. 

"Car you don't strike me as the sort of guy who breaks the rule very often. Just this once.I've got a key, we don't even have to break a window." Ron pleads. He stares at him with a pitiful pouting lip until Carwood sighs loudly. 

"Alright."


	3. Coffee Covered Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy this took me a while to get done, writers block suuucks- on the plus side my art is going well! 
> 
> anyway, here it is chapter 3! it's short but it's sweet...

It's spooky. Spookier than the other school he's worked in. It's a ritual of sorts, coming in after the cleaners are gone and usual drinking a bottle of tequila on the floor of his classroom to christen his employment. But he's never done it with another person before. 

Carwood is jittering nervously next to him as Ron fumbles with the keys and finds the set for the sports hall's back entrance. The gym is the size of a five aside soccer pitch, but in the dark Ron can hardly see two feet in front of him. The open door casts a corridor of light on the lino that looks cream in the moonlight. 

"This is dumb." Carwood says, his voice echoing. Ron finds a stray basketball and lobs it across the room where it bounces off the hoop. Carwood 'ooo's mockingly and jogs down the wing, his shoes squeaking as he moves. He catches up with the ball and dribbles it in several circles before making a shot. It falls noiselessly through the hoop. 

"That was luck!" Ron calls. "And I'm drunk." 

"Pure skill." Carwood insists, slipping the ball under his arm and comes to Ron's side. "So where to next?" 

"Mmm, my class." Ron decides. They walk side by side through the halls, laughing a little when the silence becomes a little tense or overwhelming. Ron unlocks the English room and holds the door open for Carwood. 

"It's like deja-vu." Carwood says, sitting atop the desk in front of the whiteboard. 

"You mean another guy has broken into the school and took you into the English room before? I suddenly feel unoriginal." 

In the pale light Ron can't quite see Carwood's withering look but he can feel it. "I mean this is the classroom I taught in too. Does Babe still sit with Guarnere?" 

"Babe?" 

"Heffron." Carwood clarifies, pointing to the desk in the far corner. Ron falls into his chair and runs his hands over the surface of his desk, clear of work for once. Paper usual spills from every orifice of this room, balanced precariously on shelves or teetering on the edges of desks. But the cleaners have tidied the piles into near stacks, ready for the students to un-arrange on Monday morning, and much of the paper has been transported to Ron's office at home for marking. 

"Ah. No actually, he moved next to Roe a week or so ago." Ron replies, nodding to the desk on Carwood's right. The librarian nods musingly, swinging his legs back and forth with his hands tucked beneath his thighs. "They're sweet. Roe was very concerned the other day when Heffron cut his hand- why are you making that face?" 

Carwood looks almost delighted with a hint of something else. "You just said sweet. You really are drunk." 

"I can say sweet." Ron snorts defensively. 

"Really?" 

"Yes, yes I can. Listen-" Ron clears his throat and extends his arm in a Shakespearean pose. Carwood is already laughing. "-Honey... is sweet." 

"Oh wow. Excellent prose." Carwood says in feigned admiration. Ron pushes himself up from the chair, almost falling down again. He poses once more and continues. 

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." 

"Oh real Shakespeare, you get extra credit for that." Carwood laughs, throwing his head back. Ron steps around his desk and stands in front of the librarian, their knees almost touching. 

"Um, Nixon takes his coffee sickly sweet." Ron announces, searching the room for more words. Carwood watches him with a unrelenting smile on his face that draws Ron's attention. He focuses on the librarian's face and his skin starts to itch again. "You're sweet." 

"Oh?" Carwood's eyes flicker away nervously. He sits forward, until his feet touch the floor- toe to toe with Ron. 

"You're kind and honey-" 

"Honey?" 

"I mean sweet, you're kind and sweet." Ron mutters, he can feel himself leaning into Carwood's space. He presses their legs together, and they both twitch at the contact. "You are the sweetest person I have ever met, Carwood." 

"Ron..." Carwood whispers. Suddenly they're a lot closer than Ron thought, and his fingers are tingling with the need to reach out. Carwood's breath is hot on his cheek and as the tips of their noses touch, Ron can feel his heart in his throat. As Ron wraps his fingers around Carwood's wrist, there's a loud slam from outside. Carwood jumps and almost knocks the desk over. 

"What the hell?" He says breathlessly, brushing past Ron to peer through the doorway into the dark hallway. 

"There's a draft." With a tinge of disappointment Ron watches the moment slip away, and suddenly they're two very drunk colleagues trespassing on school property on a Friday night. He looks over Carwood's back, the shoulders Ron would love to get his nails into and the waist he could hold onto for dear life. As he turns around Ron realises this is the worst idea he's ever had. 

"We should go." He blurts. 

A flicker of something crosses Carwood's face that makes Ron regret his words. "Oh, sure. I'll drop you home?" 

"That'd be- yes. Thank you." 

In the car Ron forces himself to look out the window instead of at the soft presence next to him. It's raining lightly, a smattering of drops blur his view as they race across the glass. It's easier to pretend the race is interesting when he's fearful of the look that must be on Carwood's face- somewhere between confusion and disappointment probably. He slides lower in the seat and wraps his arms around his own chest in hopes of keeping his heart together. The lights beyond the car window begin to blur into a fog of colour and Ron doesn't notice his head falling against the door, or the colours fading to black.

-

Waking up on a Saturday morning in a strange bed, lacking pants and shoes is not the weirdest thing to ever happen to Ron but it's in the top five. He wakes with a sandpaper mouth and a skull full of cotton balls, his face squished into a soft pillow. 

He lifts his head and squints at his surroundings groggily. There's a bedside table stacked with books and a gaudy looking lap, and a bulky Victorian chest of drawers beneath a window shaded with modern blinds. 

The cream walls are decorated with a few framed pictures of large groups in celebration or sat at a table. When he sits up, carefully, his feet land on a soft rug covering hardwood floors. The whole room is a strange contradiction of grandma's house and a bachelor pad. 

Ron rubs his eyes hard, groaning as he sees stars. When he can stand without the room spinning, he pads through the doorway in search of the occupant of this house, although he already has an inkling. His theory is confirmed by the sight of the kitchen. 

Carwood Lipton stands at the open plan counter with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He's wearing a plain vest and Ron can't help staring at his perfectly sculpted arms. Ron pauses, having not been noticed, and watches the librarian put down the paper and go to the hob where a pan of eggs sit frying tunefully. 

"Um, good morning." Ron pipes up, picking his fingernail nervously. Carwood looks up, smiling softly and it forces a blush to rise in Ron's cheeks. 

"Mornin', did you sleep okay?" Carwood asks, flipping two of the eggs onto their yolk. 

"Yeah, yes I did... Did you?" Ron asks slowly, stepping around the counter and into the kitchen. He averts his eyes hurriedly when he realises Carwood's is lacking trousers too. Carwood eyes him over his shoulder and a bemused smile tugs upon his lip. 

"I sleep very well. My sofa-" He says deliberately, "-is very comfortable." Relief floods through Ron's bones and he silently thanks Carwood for understanding. Yet, it seems foolish to be so relieved that something he wants with Carwood didn't happen. 

"Do you want some eggs?" 

"That sounds great." 

"There's fresh coffee over there." Carwood jerks his head to the brimming coffee pot. Ron goes to it, thankful for something to do with his hands, and pours himself a cup. There he leans against the counter and watches Carwood fill two plates with mouth watering eggs on toast. His hair is sticking up at the back and Ron fights the urge to run his finger through it as he passes with the plates in hand. They sit at the kitchen island side by side and quietly takes breakfast. 

"You fell asleep in the car." Ron looks at him mid-chew with raised eyebrows but Carwood's glaring at his last slice of toast like it's a first edition. "So I brought you to mine and put you to bed, I'm sorry if it was over-stepping, I mean it doesn't mean anything I was just trying to be..." 

"Kind." Ron finishes hoping the flutter in his heart isn't so apparent on his face when Carwood meets his eye. The librarian smiles bashfully and ducks his head, and Ron feels a little more at ease. Ron helps Carwood wash the dishes, side by side at the sink. Ron takes the time to contemplate his feelings for the man. They're definitely there and strong as hell, but coming so close last night Ron had felt... scared. But of what? Messing it up? Hurting Carwood?

The librarian is smiling softly to himself as he runs the tea towel over the dish. Ron struggles to keep his eyes off of him, until Carwood looks up and he quickly averts his gaze. He feels childish, jittery and nervous in a sickly mixture that makes his stomach ache. It's clear being in love is different for everyone so maybe being scared is just part of it, Ron realises over a soapy mug. There's nothing scary about Carwood, the man embodies softness; his soft hair, his round features, his slanted eyes that look at him in such a shy way. And the best part of course, his smile- turned up at the edges almost reluctantly most of the time, or toothy and full of laughter on rare occasions.

Ron knocks his elbow against Carwood's, catching his attention. The librarian looks up and Ron is suddenly sure, more sure than he's ever been before.

"What?" Carwood manages to murmur but Ron captures any remaining words when he presses his lips to Carwood's. It's chaste and gentle, and Ron drags his lip over Carwood's bottom one before pulling away- trying to savour the moment. It takes a moment for Carwood to open his eyes when Ron moves away. Ron in transfixed by the soft flutter of his eyelashes before their eyes meet.

"Oh." Carwood sighs, setting the plate down without looking and turning to face Ron fully. He cups Ron's jaw with calloused hands, and kisses him with such confidence. Ron shifts as they kiss, mouths sliding together wetly in that sleepy morning way. He grabs onto Carwood's waist, forgetting his sopping wet marigold's as he does. Neither of them care as the water soaks through Carwood's vest and runs down Ron's arm and over his pants. The bliss of the embrace is enough to make time itself seem insignificant, Ron can't help sighing as he tastes the coffee on Carwood's tongue, and pulls the librarian a little closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speirtoon kisssseessss
> 
> god ive become such a sucka for this ship! 
> 
> ty for being patient with my terrible updating, come complain and commiserate with me on tumblr- @amongedelweiss

**Author's Note:**

> short and sweet...
> 
> sorry if it's a little clunky, please be gentle im trying my best! I'll update in a week or so because im starting uni (wish me luck)
> 
> title from The Bees by Carol Ann Duffy,  
> Treasure Island is a good book i recommend it!


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